The fear is back.

That’s the first thing I think as I stare into the face of my assailant: the fear is back. This man could kill me, and I am terrified. Any lingering trace of alcoholic buzz or feeding high is washed from my system by the absolute fear racing through me.

I take in the scene before me in bursts and flashes: a broken nose, scruffy red hair, violent green eyes with bags beneath, a fair-and-freckled face made harsh and vicious by curled lip and wrinkled brow. Ears. Check the ears! Rounded, to some small relief. Not an elf.

The hand gripping my shirt is rough-calloused, bruised knuckles. Brawler. Killer? What’s he planning? Rolled-up sleeves, a gambeson vest dyed blue and purple and green, and an axe on his belt with a hunting knife right next to it. Fuck.

My gaze flits to the other one, the woman, but then Brawler is shaking me and my thoughts scatter and my heartbeat races and he’s up in my face grip tight spitting words at me roaring at me to listen and answer and I am so fucking terrified.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing in my club?” Those baleful green eyes burn into me and I squeak in response, which only seems to piss him off further. “Do you even know who we are? Speak!”

Outside the booth, the music is too loud again, and though space has cleared around us there are still too many people here. My panic reaches its peak and I babble, “I don’t know! I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! I-I just walked in, I saw a place and I came here, I don’t know who you are or what you want or why you care that I’m here! I-I just wanted to eat, that’s it, I was just hungry!”

Brawler narrows his eyes and demands, “Who are you and what are you?”

“Alice,” I blurt. “My- my name is Maven Alice, and I’m a demon. Please don’t kill me.”

I hear a growl, and my gaze darts from the man holding me for just long enough to catch sight of the world’s ugliest dog before my attention is squarely back on the axeman. He sniffs contemptuously. “Buster doesn’t like you. Wonder why that is?”

“Ha,” I laugh nervously, “I’m usually quite good with animals. Have I mentioned that I would like it if you did not kill me? Here, I’ll mention it again: please don’t kill me.”

I look away from the dangerous man with the axe, hoping to catch sight of Bashekehi or Cheshire somewhere in the crowd, but instead I see Lena, neck thoroughly bloodied, stumbling away into the arms of her no-longer-giggling friends. There’s a brief moment of relief that I didn’t murder her, and then I’m brought back to immediacy by a snort from the woman with the sharp voice.

“You sure this thing’s a demon, Shane? I thought they were supposed to have spine.”

I glance at the woman and see dark skin, dark hair tied back in a messy ponytail, cool brown eyes, purple scarf, and a bright blue-green gambeson coat. More importantly than any of that, I see a crossbow in her hands and a sword at her belt.

The axeman–Shane–glares at me and says to the woman, “Could be lying, could be fresh, but my money’s on fresh. Ask the dog.”

Crossbow Lady calls to the dog, “Hey, Buster: tell me what the fuck is up with that,” and points at me.

I freeze up further, muscles straining to remain perfectly still as I see what is definitely not a dog approach me: it’s completely hairless, for one, and its face is misshapen with skin stretched tight against its skull. It has big teeth, lots of them, and its body is too muscular, too bulky. Worst of all are its eyes, humanlike and gray. The not-a-dog sniffs me, oversized nostrils flaring, and then it pads back to the woman with the crossbow and whines.

Crossbow Lady frowns. “Shadowtouched for sure, but… something’s off. I think she’s fucking with Buster’s read, because he can’t get anything more specific on the girl, and he’s getting a whole bunch of other scents off her.”

Shane tightens his grip on me. “Like what, Mahiri?”

“Like another elf.”

Fuck. I glance around the club once more, desperate to catch the gaze of someone who can help me, and this time I see Bashe staring back at me from amidst the crowd, expression tight and body still. He notices me notice him, hesitates, and then the absolute fucking bastard looks away from me.

I focus back on Shane to find him watching me intently. He smiles, a mean, mean look on his broken-nosed face. “Well, isn’t that interesting. A demon comes to town on tonight of all nights reeking of an elf that isn’t Averrich. The boss will definitely want to see you, little demon.”

I smile weakly and raise my hands in a placating gesture. “Listen, I really don’t want any trouble. I really, really didn’t know you guys were here. Actually, it wasn’t even my idea to come here; an incubus by the name of Bashekehi the Ever-Gleaming told me this was a good place to feed. If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame him.”

I would feel bad about throwing Bashe under the bus, but no I wouldn’t, and this is absolutely his fault, and please don’t kill me. To my surprise, the brutes threatening me seem to recognize Bashe’s name, because Shane frowns and the woman–Mahiri–whistles.

Shane looks to Mahiri and asks, “Wasn’t that the name of one of the Coiners? I swear I’ve heard Imlashi mention him.”

Mahiri nods and raises an eyebrow at me. “Not just any Coiner, either; if I’m thinking of the right guy, he was in their triad. She talks about him all the time, him and Avaya. He’s the one that stayed behind.”

“Right, right.” Shane looks back to me. “How do you know a dead man’s name, demon?” His breath is hot and rancid against my face, and though his tone is now light I can’t ignore the threatening edge to his every word.

My hands are shaking. I try to lean away from him but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run. I refuse to die here. I can’t die here. I find Bashe in the crowd again, see him slipping further away, and I point at him in a sudden jerking motion. “BASHE!” I yell. “Don’t you fucking leave me here!”

Shane and Mahiri look to where I’m pointing and see the incubus freeze in place. His fists clench for a moment, then unclench, and Bashe turns around with a fake smile on his face. He raises a hand in greeting, but doesn’t move towards us.

Mahiri points the crossbow at Bashe and calls out, “Come say hello, dead man. We need to have a word with you.”

Bashe hesitates, and for a moment I wonder if he might run, but then he starts walking for our little group. As he approaches he says, “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else, friend. I’m very much alive.”

I glare at the treacherous incubus and perform some treachery of my own. “Hey, Bashekehi. You didn’t tell me this club was subject to a fucking turf war. That would have been useful information before I started snacking on a clubgoer.”

Through the overwhelming fear I feel a core of white-hot anger that he’s put me in this danger. Hypocrisy, perhaps, but I’m no stranger to that.

The axeman releases me and I have to steady myself. I breathe a sigh of relief, but before I can start planning some method of getting the fuck out of dodge he jerks his head at me and says to the horrifying not-dog, “Buster, watch the demon. Bite it if it tries to run.”

The creature plods on over and sits down on my feet, which is horrible and I hate it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And where is Cheshire!? I am alone and surrounded and going to die, where the fuck is Cheshire!?

Shane raises a hand when Bashe is a few feet away, and Mahiri keeps the crossbow trained on the incubus. Shane makes a hand gesture towards someone off in the crowd–staff, maybe–and seconds later the music volume mercifully lowers.

“So you’re the one ‘Lashi is always talking about, eh?” asks Mahiri. She chuckles. “You don’t look like much, if that really is you.”

Bashe seems caught off-guard by that, his facade of ease falling away as he turns to the woman with the crossbow. “You know Imlashi? I… she’s alive, then?”

“Alive and well,” Crossbow Lady says with a grin. “And she’ll be mighty keen to see you again.”

Shane cuts in, “But if you really are from around here, you really shoulda known better than to stray on King’s Carnival turf.” He rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles. “Did you come looking for a fight, or did you just wanna piss someone off?”

Bashe takes a step back and shakes his head. “Hey now, nothing like that. Look, I didn’t even know you guys would be here. If you know who I am, then you probably know better than I do how long I’ve been gone from this city, and it’s long enough that I’m shocked to find out this territory belongs to Averrich’s people now. You guys have expanded.”

Gods I wish I could be absorbing all this information in a safe, comfortable context instead of while under threat of gruesome murder. Who are any of these people being mentioned!? How can I use any of this information to not fucking die!?

“We have,” Shane replies to Bashe, “and we’ve owned this stretch of town for the better part of a year. ‘Course, you’ve been gone for the better part of four, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Shane cocks his head and continues, “I am surprised you come back working for a demon.”

Ha! I wish. I watch the warriors–soldiers, gangsters, whatever–chat up Bashe, and try to look for some opening to escape. The fucking dog will be the hardest part, but even if I can shake it off I have that nasty crossbow to deal with. And what’s with all the pre-modern weaponry paired with this extremely-modern nightclub?

Mahiri chimes in, “Always heard you were something of an aberration among imps. ‘Fiend with a conscience,’ Imlashi called you.”

Bashe waves a hand at me dismissively. “I’m not working for the girl. Abyss,” he swears, “I don’t even like the girl. She’s obnoxious and a brat. She got me out of my cell, that’s all. After today I hope to never see her again, honest.” He hesitates, then asks, “Imlashi... you talk about her like she’s one of yours. Did she join your crew, after the attack?”

Shane eyes the imp and answers, “She did, yeah. Got in good with the boss and climbed the ladder real well. Seems to think you shoulda joined her. You planning to?”

Bashe passes a hand over his hair and sighs. “I’m really not ready for that conversation yet. Not the conversation with ‘Lashi, and definitely not a conversation with Averrich. What about… what about Avaya’ari?”

Mahiri smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

There’s something very satisfying about Bashe being the one stonewalled for exposition. While they’re busy talking, I silently check my spells: all three are showing a full tank, but I don’t know how to determine if I have enough mana to cast multiple spells in a row. Still, I know what to open with: [Carrion Swarm] is the only spell in my arsenal that really works as an opener.

Shane folds his arms and says, “You can hear about it from Averrich, because that’s a conversation you’re not getting out of. This little intrusion aside, a lot has changed since your day, old-timer.”

Bashe laughs and puts on a grin. “Old-timer? Is four years really that long?”

Shane and Mahiri share a look.

Bashe’s laughter dies, and he drops the smile. “It’s that serious, then? What has happened since I was gone? Did the truce–”

“The truce is dead,” Shane interrupts. “It died when the Contrite swept in, and its corpse got pissed on when the Contrite were swept out and a demon stepped in to fill the power vacuum. No more treaties, incubus; it’s kill or be killed these days.”

Bashekehi grimaces. “Well, fuck.” He looks away. “Can you at least give me a day to prepare? I’ll talk to Averrich, promise, but I just got back. I haven’t even…” Bashe trails off, leaving the final sentiment unspoken.

Shane shakes his head. “If it was just you, maybe, but you can’t come back with a demon and expect to walk that off. The Goblin King will want both of you in his court now. This is bigger than you know.”

Damnit, I kind of want to figure out what they’re talking about, but I have learned my fucking lesson: I am not getting tangled up with another fae. I prime [Carrion Swarm] and zero in on the command prompt within the diminished spell diagram. [Carrion Swarm]: I want you to summon venomous spiders that will bite the dog and weaken it. It works, the text turning blue in my mind’s eye. I just need the right moment to unleash the spell.

I miss whatever Bashe says, but then Mahiri is talking again with, “Doesn’t matter. You came in together, you’re leaving together. Don’t make this difficult.”

Bashe looks at me and says, “That might be a problem for the girl. She’s not too fond of fae. You really wanna pick a fight with a demon?”

Shit. Running out of time.

Mahiri glances at me disdainfully. “Not much of a demon.”

My hands twitch, my fight-or-flight going wild from the renewed interest, and I almost unleash the spell, but I stop when I hear Cheshire’s voice whisper in my ear: “Wait for my signal. Focus the reaver with the crossbow.”

I don’t see Cheshire anywhere, but I give it decent odds she’s some kind of bug right now. Okay. No choice but to trust her, really. So how do we respond? I smile uneasily at the two reavers(?) and say, “Hullo again. Just waiting for my turn. Please, take all the time you like with my dear friend and stalwart ally, I’m a very patient girl.”

Different tactic. I dismiss the spell and call it again. [Carrion Swarm]: summon crows to peck at Crossbow Lady’s eyes. The command is accepted, the spell primed and waiting.

Shane turns back to me now and makes a contemptuous noise at me. “Well, demon girl? Is all that sniveling real, or do you think you can take us in a fight?”

“Definitely not,” I assure the reaver, entirely truthfully. “I am weak and frail and I know I’ve said this a couple times, but please, please do not kill me. Also, please do not take me to your scary fae boss? I can just leave. I’d really rather just leave the city, if those are my choices.”

“Not an option,” Shane tells me bluntly. “And allow me to be crystal fucking clear about what your options are: with us, or against us. Come to the Goblin King and join his hunt, or be an enemy of the King’s Carnival and die like prey.” He pulls the axe from his belt and points it at me, Mahiri keeping her crossbow leveled at Bashe. “Make your choice, and quick.”

“I would like to live,” I say with more desperation than enthusiasm. “Living is my choice, always, in any context.” Internally, I am paralyzed with indecision. Is it even worth it to try my luck? Should I just go along with what they want here?

I hate it. I hate the idea of being bound to another fae, forced into servitude on threat of violent murder.

And yet: it’s a damn compelling threat. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I’d prefer slavery to death.

In the end, Cheshire chooses for me. The second that Shane turns his attention back to Bashe and asks, “And your choice, incubus?” something happens to the dog: it yelps, twisting its head around to bite at its flank, and that takes off just enough weight for me to forcefully step back and away.

Mahiri turns the crossbow on me but I’ve already unleashed [Carrion Swarm] and four crows take shape and divebomb the reaver, going straight for the eyes like I ordered. She still manages to pull the trigger, but with the distraction from the birds it misses me, though only by centimeters.

I damn near have a heart attack from the close call, but I don’t stick around to see what happens next, instead bolting for the crowd. Behind me I hear Bashe cry “[Adrenaline Burst],” and Shane roar “[Wolfsong]!”

I reach the edge of the crowd but I’m too slow and before I can vanish into the mass of figments I am caught by the monstrous thing that Shane and Mahiri called “Buster.” The monster dog hits my heels, tackles me, shoves me to the ground, jaws coming for my throat, and for a single terrified instant I can see my death looming over me, but then a giant fucking wolf comes barreling through and slams into the horrible faerie dog, knocking it aside and latching on with big glorious fangs.

I scramble to my feet, slip into the crowd, and the fight is on.